About Me
There’s chaos within the casing that is my body, but I paint anyway.
Sometimes I write instead, when words need to pour out instead of brushstrokes.
I’ve always made things. Drawings. Stories. Unasked-for tragedies in the margins of math homework.
(I mean, come on—I wasn’t learning anything in that class anyway.)
I once got sent home in sixth grade for writing something “too intense.”
What did they expect?
I was already listening to the attic of the world.
Already translating what most people swat away, store away.
Uncovering what sits under layers of dust.
My Approach
I used to be obsessed with creating something perfect.
Something Goldilocks-style “just right.”
These days, I don’t get lost in making something beautiful.
Beauty is a bonus. Like gold leaf on grief.
My art is a conduit. A séance. A sermon. A confessional.
It’s where I go when I don’t know what I’m feeling but need to release it from my body.
Sometimes it’s joy. A giddy, weird, in-your-face kind of joy.
Other times, it’s a death spiral—the kind we’re trained not to talk about.
But always, it’s a story.
A portal.
A quiet thing that screams.
Or maybe a loud thing that whispers.
My Creative Process
My process isn’t sacred, but it is sensitive.
Like all the truly beautiful things in this world, it is wrought with emotion, intention, and imperfection.
I light candles to let the light shine in, to expose.
Sometimes I create in silence.
Other times, I drown in the soundtracks of movies that taught me how to feel.
I make space for whatever version of me shows up.
And I trust she’s the right one.
My work leans toward myth. Toward aching.
Toward the kinds of stories that leave bruises and plant seeds in the same breath.
If you haven’t seen my art yet, just know this:
In a world trained to dissect, compare, and consume...
I don’t look at you like another cog in the machine,
or like something to be fixed,
or a means to an end.
We all co-exist in this society of wanting to be seen and heard and understood.
And if no one’s told you lately:
I see you.
I understand you.
My work is the stories of people just like you.
You who’ve lived through devastation, euphoria, contradiction, and existential upheaval.
My work looks into you.
It’s made for you.